


daydream about me

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But still idiots, Coming Out, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Girl Direction, Lack of Communication, No Angst, Solo Artist Harry Styles, Solo Artist Louis Tomlinson, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: “Anything else going on for you at the moment?” she asks, leaning forward on her elbows across the table, mindful of the radio equipment in front of her. “What about you and that Louis Tomlinson?”Harry sputters, mouth moving but no words coming out. She can feel her cheeks heat up, darkening with embarrassment.“It’s not, Louis and I, we don’t—” Harry can’t finish the sentence, tongue heavy in her mouth. She takes a deep breath, thankful they’re not being videoed, and tries again, “We’ve never even met, actually.”alternatively titled 'harry styles does not have a crush on louis tomlinson and other lies she tells liam payne'
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 189
Collections: Girl Direction Fic Fest 2020





	daydream about me

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [jacky](https://comebackassholes.tumblr.com/) for reading this over for me! and thank you to [vera](https://comebackpls1d.tumblr.com/) for putting on this lovely fest!

Harry picks up her phone for the third time in less than a minute. The tweet is still there, bold and in her face, garnering retweets and favorites with every second. She sighs and locks it again, placing it face down on the table.

“Are you going to...answer?” Liam asks. He furrows his eyebrows together. “Are you going to interact in any way with it?”

“I feel like if I interact too soon it’ll seem desperate,” Harry explains. She makes a face, hoping it expresses that this should be obvious to him.

“Desperate for what?” His confusion only grows. “What are you desperate for?”

“Nothing. That’s the point!” She throws her hands into the air and lets them fall back into her lap. “What do I even respond?”

“I’m still not sure what, like, the problem is, but remind me what it said again.”

Harry tries not to sigh, but she’s not too sure she succeeds when Liam throws back a sigh of his own. She doesn’t fight back the smile that twists her lips up, huffing softly to herself as she unlocks her phone _again_.

“Harry, this isn’t even anything,” he says, unhelpful as ever.

“Yeah, well.” Harry struggles to find the right words. “I can’t tell if she actually doesn’t like me or if she plays it up for the media.”

“Probably a little bit of both,” Liam agrees.

She takes her phone back, staring at the tweet. It’s _nothing_ , Liam’s right, but. Tell that to the butterflies in her stomach.

_‘Hey sweetcheeks, thanks for giving me that gorgeous number one spot this week. Better luck next week?’_

“Who does Louis Tomlinson think she is?” Harry grumbles under her breath. “Going around looking like that and saying things like that and putting out music—”

“—Like that,” Liam finishes for her. “Your crush on her is getting worse.”

And Harry does not have a _crush_ on Louis Tomlinson. Not that there’s anything wrong with her, as far as Harry can tell. She seems perfectly fine in interviews - sassy without being mean, always giving perfect answers to questions, and leaves just enough unsaid that people want more. 

Louis is also just fresh out of a girl band, putting out her own solo music for the first time. Harry had been in a similar spot just a few months ago, her own band breaking up just before Louis’, struggling on her own two feet without two other band members by her side. So no, she doesn’t have a _crush_ on Louis Tomlinson, she simply just empathizes with the girl. 

The media, of course, compares them to no end, which is what started the rivalry in the first place. They’d released a single on the same day just last month, and since then it’s been a constant battle for the number one spot. Harry had held it for two weeks, but she lost it this week to Louis’ single ‘ _Just Like You_.’

She had expected it, honestly. She had literally seen it coming the moment she read the article about Louis coming out of the closet and how that was the main catalyst behind putting out the song. The lyrics were more so about how she was a real person, too, and while maybe she didn’t have the same problems as all of her fans, it wasn’t always easy sailing. 

So.

Harry knew that had driven up streaming on her song, and she was _happy_ for Louis. 

Which is why she feels like it’s a dilemma to decide what she’s going to respond. She doesn’t want to ignore the tweet— that would be rude— but she feels like she needs to pick her words carefully. She wants to show support for the girl while still upholding the “rivalry” they have going on.

“You could send a cheeky tweet first and then follow it up with your support,” Liam suggests. “You were just there a few months ago, so you know better than anyone what she’s going through. Coming out is hard and it’s even harder when the whole world is watching.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she agrees. “That could work.”

She remembers the absolute circus that followed her the first two months after she came out as a lesbian. Even now, it’s just starting to die down. Of course, Louis coming out as bisexual has helped draw the attention from herself, but she’s still been receiving plenty of phone calls from press sites wanting an exclusive interview and paparazzi shouting at her almost everywhere she goes.

Harry had chosen a subtler route for her own coming out, a simple comment in an interview that she hadn’t really expanded on. Louis went for a full article, but has since declined to answer any other questions. 

Harry respects her. It’s not a crush.

Her fingers definitely don’t shake as she types up a response. 

_‘Thought I’d give you a chance to enjoy it this week. Needed a change of scenery. I’ll be back for it next week.’_

She presses send without letting Liam read it over and then begins composing a second tweet.

_‘Congrats on the article. Absolutely loved it. Xx’_

Once again, she presses send before she can overthink it and watches as the notifications pour in. She scrolls through and absentmindedly likes a few jokes from both of hers and Louis’ fans. There’s nothing too interesting in the replies, so she closes the app and turns her attention to kicking Liam’s ass at FIFA again for the next hour.

Liam surrenders and begs to watch a movie instead, promising that he’ll order the pizza and even let Harry pick out the movie for once. 

“Deal,” she agrees easily. She turns off the game and flicks over to Hulu, knowing exactly what movie she wants to watch. She’s been begging him for _weeks_ and he’s finally given her the opportunity, and he’s not going to be able to back out now. “Will you order garlic knots too?”

“Yeah,” he says absentmindedly. He puts the phone up to his ear and it’s only about thirty seconds before he’s greeting the person on the other line. 

She doesn’t bother paying attention to him while he orders. She trusts him enough after five years of friendship. Instead, she picks up her abandoned phone and notices an abundance of text messages from her manager, Zak. He only ever texts Harry during their break when she’s royally fucked up, and she takes a moment to wonder what she’s done wrong this time.

Apparently, she hasn’t done anything wrong. 

He’s texted her that she should check out Adaline Wise’s twitter account. According to his text on her screen, there’s something there that she should see. 

Adaline Wise is one of Harry’s favorite late night hosts, and she always enjoys being on her show. It’s fun and fresh and she never asks questions that Harry doesn’t want her to. She’s the best at recognizing the boundaries and not overstepping them, and Harry always makes sure her show is added to the list when she’s doing promo.

On Adaline’s twitter page, she doesn’t immediately see anything out of the ordinary. She scrolls down a few tweets, past some retweets of _‘that would be such a good idea!’_ and _‘I didn’t know I needed this until now.’_ Finally, Harry comes across what she’s sure her manager wanted her to see.

_‘@Harry_Styles @Louis_Tomlinson how about coming on my show and settling that rivalry once and for all?’_

Harry clicks on the tweet, eyes widening, rereading the words. The first reply underneath is Louis’ response, and Harry’s heart starts beating faster as she reads the words.

_‘I’m down. @Harry_Styles you ready to finally find out that you’re always going to be second to the best?’_

She pulls out her phone and calls Zak, unsure of how she's supposed to respond. Does he want her to say yes? Does he want her to ignore it?

Thankfully, he picks up after a few rings. “Yes?”

“I hate when you answer the phone like that,” she says. “It makes you sound like a douchebag.”

“You’re always so pleasant,” he laughs. “What are you calling me for?”

“What do you want me to say?” Harry asks, kicking at Liam when he joins her back on the couch. 

“To the tweet? Say yes, obviously.”

She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t that obvious since I’m calling you to ask what I should do.”

“Just respond with something fun,” he tells her. She hears some background noise, and feels guilty that she’s probably pulling him away from something else. “They’ve already reached out to me about you coming on during June for pride month. They’re apparently doing something for it this year and wanted you there anyway. This works out perfectly for you.”

“They what?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“Harry, my darling,” Zak starts, “we’ll talk about this some other time. Just respond to the tweet before I log on and respond for you.”

The line goes dead before she can say anything in reply, but it’s probably for the best. There’s a million questions running through her mind, like _‘pride month? I’m allowed to participate in pride month events?’_ and _‘Louis and I are going to be on a late night show together?’_ among other things.

“What was that all about?” Liam asks.

“Adaline Wise asked if I wanted to be on her show with Louis,” she answers. “Apparently she already reached out to Zak about getting me on for pride month, and this was her way of kind of publicly bringing attention to it. You know, get a little bit of promo going on.”

“That sounds exciting,” he says, and sounds like he means it. Liam’s a good best friend, always listening to her talk about boring things like promo, recording, and publicity without telling her to just shut up already. She often wonders why he puts up with her when all she does is demand he hang out with her at weird hours of the day and complain about being single.

Either way, Harry’s thankful for him. She probably wouldn’t have ever worked up the courage to come out without him, so he’s not getting rid of her now.

“It is exciting,” she agrees easily. “And I get to finally meet Louis.”

“Now _that’s_ exciting.”

Harry rolls her eyes and kicks her foot at him again. He doesn’t even pretend like it hurts him. “I just want to find out if she really doesn’t like me.”

“No, you want to see if she’s really flirting with you,” Liam corrects. He quirks one of his eyebrows. “You and I both know she doesn’t actually hate you. Her tweets aren’t even mean, you just read too much into them.”

She sighs dramatically. “Don’t be smart. I don’t like it when you’re smart. You know you’re not allowed to use your brain in my house.”

“No use of brains allowed in your house? Suddenly everything makes sense,” he teases. She tries to kick him again, but the doorbell rings and he jumps up to answer, saving himself. Once Liam reappears with their food and they resume their gaming, she forgets all about Louis and the late night show.

* * *

“So, today on our show we’ve got the lovely Miss Harry Styles,” the radio DJ, Lucy, introduces. Harry’s never been on her show before, but so far everyone has been nice, even offering her a muffin and coffee when she first arrived.

“Hiii,” Harry drawls. “How’re you doing today?”

Lucy smiles easily at her. “Better now that you’re here. You’re all anyone could talk about all week. Did you know you’re kind of a big deal?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m, like, a big deal. I’m just Harry.”

“Well, maybe to yourself,” Lucy says, “but the crowd outside doesn’t seem to think you’re anything less than the biggest deal. I love their dedication.”

“They’re the best people in the world,” Harry says, and she means it. Her fans are loyal and sweet and she always enjoys it when she gets the chance to interact with them. She knows it’s become less as the years have gone on and she’s grown a bigger fanbase, but she tries her best. Just this morning she’d sent Zak outside with boxes of donuts to the people camped out waiting for her. If there are any left after the show, she has plans to stop and personally thank all of them.

“After talking to a few of them, I’d have to agree.” Lucy’s eyes glide down the paper in front of her. “You’re here today to tell us a little bit about your music and life at the moment. You just recently put out an absolute banger of a single last month, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry responds. “‘S called _Sign of the Times_.” 

“And it’s your first one since going solo?” 

Harry swallows before answering, “Yeah, um. It’s different from the kind of music we put out, too. I know people didn’t expect me to come out of my pop band and put out a five minute long ballad, but that’s what felt right to me. It’s not me trying to do the opposite of what’s expected of me— it’s me trying to do what I want to do.”

“I love that, Harry,” Lucy says earnestly. “How is the rest of your music coming along? You’ve teased a little bit of news about an album maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe. Not anytime super soon. I’ll probably have two more singles before the album releases, and I have started recording the album, but it’s still in the early stages. I’m trying to gain traction on my own. The goal is to put the album out by the end of the year, but I don’t want to say anything definite.”

Lucy nods at this, eyes brightening. Harry decides she really likes being on her show and makes a mental note to tell Zak to add it to her promo tour list for when the album does drop. It’s different from being on Grimshaw’s show where she might have to do something embarrassing, and she likes the way Lucy’s questions don’t seem intrusive. 

“Anything else going on for you at the moment?” she asks, leaning forward on her elbows across the table, mindful of the radio equipment in front of her.

“Um, not too much,” Harry answers, thinking it’s the truth. She never really knows how she’s supposed to answer questions like these, but she knows they’re always asked with intention behind them.

“What about you and that Louis Tomlinson?” 

Ah. There it is.

Harry sputters, mouth moving but no words coming out. She can feel her cheeks heat up, darkening with embarrassment. 

“It’s not, Louis and I, we don’t—” Harry can’t finish the sentence, tongue heavy in her mouth. She takes a deep breath, thankful they’re not being videoed, and tries again, “We’ve never even met, actually.”

Lucy hums, high in pitch as she wiggles her eyebrows. “Seems a bit cheeky online. That’s all I’m saying! And you’re blushing quite a bit over someone you’ve never met.”

Harry forces herself to laugh and concentrates on not dying of embarrassment. She takes back all the nice things she said about Lucy’s show— she’s never coming back. 

The rest of the interview goes relatively smoothly, considering Harry’s jittery with nervous energy and ready to burst out of her chair at any moment, eager for it to end. Lucy thanks her at the end for being a good guest and Harry tells her it was a pleasure, but it’s a _lie._ Her face is still flaming red, burning as she steps into the sunlight.

The fans are still there, screaming once they spot her. She plasters on a smile, happily posing for photos and signing whatever is put into her hands. They help take Harry’s mind off of her embarrassment easily enough, and by the time she’s home after, she isn’t even thinking about it.

She goes about the rest of her day just as she normally does, working out and doing a bit of songwriting before Liam comes over and they play FIFA. Maybe one day they’ll do something more exciting than sit on the couch every night, but Harry had five years of nothing _but_ excitement, always on the move, and she’s relishing her time to just sit still for now.

Harry sees her phone light up on the coffee table, but she’s too busy kicking ass to check it. By the time she does, she makes a choked noise and drops it onto the couch cushion.

Liam raises an eyebrow at her, obvious concern written all over his face. “Are you...okay?”

“Louis tweeted me,” she says, handing over the phone.

“Do you have her tweet notifications on?” 

Harry doesn’t really appreciate the judgement in his tone.

“I—” She stops and purses her lips. She sighs in resignation. “I do.”

“That’s kind of cute,” Liam teases, handing the phone back over and reaching to pinch her cheek. “Your little crush on her is adorable.”

“I don’t have a crush on Louis Tomlinson,” she protests, but it sounds weak to her own ears. If she says it enough times, it has to come true. 

Liam’s grin only grows wider, and she has half a mind to tell him to knock it off or he’ll split his face in half. 

“Are you going to read it?” he finally asks, gesturing towards the phone in her hands.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You have to, eventually.”

“I don’t, actually.” Even as she says it, she’s unlocking her phone and pulling up Twitter. She goes immediately to Louis’ profile, clicking on the first tweet there.

_‘Heard you on the radio today. You talk slower than my nan drives.’_

Harry makes an offended noise in the back of her throat as she rereads the words. Sure, she may not be the speediest conversationalist, but she wasn’t that bad. She was only stumbling so much today because she was caught off guard. 

Mortification sets in as she realizes this means Louis has heard the horrifyingly embarrassing interview. She leans back against the couch cushions and pulls one of the throw pillows over her face and screams into the soft fabric. She knows Liam must be staring at her like she’s grown a third head, but she needs to get this out.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, gently tugging the throw pillow away from her face.

“No.”

“Is it Louis?”

“No.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying,” Harry sighs. “Isn’t it always Louis?”

“For someone who says they don’t have a crush—”

“Shut up.” She reaches for the other throw pillow on the couch and whacks him on the shoulder. “I don’t have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. She just frazzles me, that’s all.”

“And why does she frazzle you?”

“We’re not talking about this!”

“Then what are we talking about? I think I’m confused.” 

“Louis listened to my interview today,” she says, fighting back another sigh. She knows she’s being dramatic, but she doesn’t really care. She’s allowed a few theatrics now and then.

Liam bursts into a small laugh, biting his lip as he tries to contain it. Harry appreciates the way he tries to spare her feelings, really. He gets himself under control, gesturing for her to hand over the phone. 

His laughter bubbles to the surface again as he reads the tweet. “Do you think she was purposely searching for the interview or do you think she stumbled upon it? Because that’s shitty luck for you, mate.”

“Why would she purposely listen to my radio interview?” Harry asks.

“Because she’s got a crush on you too,” Liam says, and Harry wants to smack him with the pillow again, but she refrains herself.

“I don’t have a crush on her. And she doesn’t have a crush on me. We’re _rivals.”_

Liam snorts, reaching over and stealing another bite of their mostly abandoned orange chicken. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night. You both know you’re not _rivals.”_

“Yes we are! We’re both just fresh out of girl bands, we both just came out as not straight, and we both just released singles that are battling for the number one spot.” She ticks each item off on her fingers, waving them in Liam’s face.

Liam pushes her hand out of his face. “And why does any of that have to make you rivals?”

She lays back, relaxing into the couch cushions. When she thinks about it, she doesn’t have a very good answer for him. They aren’t really rivals, but she’s willing to die on this hill. 

“It makes us rivals because I’ve said so,” she tells him, and he leaves it at that, finishing off the orange chicken. 

Or, she thought he was going to leave it at that.

Later, when she’s almost asleep on his lap and watching _Love, Simon,_ he ambushes her. Scratching his fingers through her hair, Liam asks her, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him, “So when do you start taping for the show?”

When she realizes what he’s asked, how they’re talking about Louis _again,_ Harry sighs and rolls her eyes. She makes no effort to move away from him, though, comfortable and content to let him continue combing through her hair. 

“End of next week,” she answers him, words slurring together so much she can’t even be sure he’s understood her.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because of your crush.”

She does sit up this time, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t have a crush!”

“When you deny it like that, I only believe in it more,” he says through laughter. 

“So what am I supposed to do? If I don’t deny it, then you think I have a crush on her. If I do deny it, then you think I have a crush on her.”

“Sorry, babe, but you literally just can’t win.” He shrugs his shoulders in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way and she grabs a pillow and whacks him in the face with it, making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.

They haven’t even _met_ yet and Louis Tomlinson is ruining her life.

* * *

Harry was supposed to be at the studio fifteen minutes ago, but Los Angeles traffic is unbearable at the best of times, and the worst at nine in the morning. It’s her own fault for snoozing her alarm three times before getting out of bed, and thinking she would still have time for her usual leisurely shower. By the time she was done, she didn’t even have time to dry her hair, and she can already feel it frizzing up in the early morning LA heat.

By the time she makes it there, checks in with the guards at the entrance gate, and meets the intern assigned to show her around, she’s twenty-five minutes late. A good first impression, she thinks, trying to be as quiet as possible as she slinks into the meeting room.

Of course, why she thought that would work, she has no idea. They’ve all been waiting for Harry, not even started discussing the plans for filming, quiet conversations between one another. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Adaline says, seated at the head of the long conference table. Besides Adaline, Harry doesn’t immediately recognize anyone else in the room, eyes quickly scanning. Except— 

Louis Tomlinson.

Harry’s brain feels like it’s malfunctioning, spontaneously combusting inside of her skull, and she hopes her face isn’t as red as it feels. 

Louis’ smirking at her, hair laying soft against her forehead, fringe unstyled, and it shouldn’t make Harry _feel_ this way.

“Um, yeah, sorry I’m late,” she stutters, words heavy and clunky in her mouth. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

“Oh, the worst,” Louis agrees, but she’s still smirking and Harry still feels like she’s on fire, and maybe Liam was right when he said she had a crush on Louis because there’s the start of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

Harry doesn’t say anything else, just sits quietly while Adeline goes over the plan for their filming. They’ll do most of the filming today, and come back tomorrow to wrap up anything they don’t get finished before the day’s end. They’ll be back next week to do the actual live show, where each of them is set to perform their singles and sit through an interview together. 

It all seems simple enough, but Harry’s not sure her brain is working, too aware of Louis sitting only a few feet away from her. 

At the conclusion of the first meeting, Harry and Louis are led to another meeting, where they get their scripts and the rundown of the things they’ll be filming. It all seems simple enough - they’re going to be on opposite teams for a dodgeball game, and then they’ll have to work together to do an escape room. 

Harry’s not very good at dodgeball or escape rooms, so she can only imagine she’s about to spend the whole day making an absolute fool of herself. 

Under normal circumstances, she might not even mind embarrassing herself. She does it frequently — falling down on stage, stumbling over her words, tripping over her own two feet when she’s just walking. All things she does on a daily basis. So sure, she doesn’t mind embarrassing herself, likes to laugh at it even, but not when _Louis_ is going to be there watching her. 

Harry can feel it deep in her soul that she’s going to get hit in the face with a dodgeball before the day is over, and another feeling that Louis is going to be the one who hits her. She’s trying to accept her fate.

Upon receiving their instructions, Harry makes her way to her dressing room. It looks the same as every dressing room in any other television studio, a fruit basket sitting on the vanity and unopened bottles of water left for her on the coffee table. A bag from Zak lays on the couch, full of gym clothes for her to change into. Her outfit for the escape room is hanging alone on the clothing rack pressed up against the wall. Other than that, there’s not anything out of the ordinary about the room.

She changes into the shorts and t-shirt quickly. The shirt has been provided by Adeline, a bright pink color with her name written on the back. On the front, it only has the show’s name written in big block letters. It’s not the cutest thing she’s ever worn, but she figures that’s not the point.

There are people stretching when Harry finally makes her way to where they’ll be filming. It’s a makeshift gym, with bleachers in the background and the other side left open for the camera crew. Harry knows they’ve also built a locker room somewhere in the area, and she has to admire Adeline— they really go all out for these things.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Louis asks, coming up to stand beside her. She’s maybe a few inches shorter than Harry, but her demeanor makes her appear taller. 

“Talking to yourself?” Harry shoots back, but it probably doesn’t bite as hard when she’s struggling to fight back her smile. 

“Listen here, Bambi,” Louis says teasingly. She’s obviously biting back a smile of her own, and it has Harry’s heart fluttering in her chest. “I’ve seen the way you walk. I can’t imagine you’re any good at dodgeball. Might as well give up in defeat now.”

“Never,” Harry says, laughing. 

Before Louis can respond, she’s pulled off to the side to tape something, and Harry is saved before she can embarrass herself too much. 

The crew are scattered variously along the set, each wearing either the same pink as Harry or the bright green Louis’ team has been assigned. She doesn’t recognize anyone wearing pink shirts, but she makes her way over to the group of them anyway. She figures she should introduce herself.

They introduce themselves to her— Liz, Allison, Claire, and Jesse— and they all seem nice enough. Harry isn’t convinced they’re going to win, not when Liz appears to be more uncomfortable in front of the camera than she is behind it and Allison too busy trying to flirt with Jesse, but Harry’s not going down without a fight. 

There’s an announcement that they’re going to film the first game in ten minutes and Harry is pulled off to the side to film something of her own. 

Adeline smiles brightly next to the camera, holding up a sheet of paper to read from. 

“Alright, Harry,” she says. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions and I just want you to answer them in the charming way I know you do. I just need, like, thirty seconds of footage to air before we air the games. Can you do that for me?”

“I think so,” Harry agrees, nodding. 

“Perfect.” Adeline flashes her another smile. “How long have you been passionate about dodgeball?”

Harry has to work to keep her expression from twisting into laughter, surprised by the question. She guesses that she shouldn’t be, having watched Adeline’s show for years and knowing how ridiculous it can get. 

“Erm, I guess since the time my hands were big enough to hold a dodgeball. I used to chase my sister around the house, throwing dodgeballs at her until my mum would make me go to my room.”

Adeline gives an approving nod and reads the next question. “And what is your favorite part of dodgeball?”

Harry pretends to think it over for a moment, twisting her lips to the side and peering at the ceiling while she scratches at her chin. “I suppose my favorite part of dodgeball is dodging the ball.”

“Right, good answer,” Adelines says through laughter. “Last question here, Harry.”

Harry nods, doing her best to straighten out her face, hoping it comes off as serious. “Go on.”

“Are you ready to beat Louis Tomlinson?”

“Louis Tomlinson isn’t going to know what hit her, Adeline,” Harry says. “She’s going to wish she had just stayed home.”

“That was perfect, Harry!” Adeline praises, dropping the sheet of paper to her side. She continues on with giving Harry more instructions and then dismisses her to enjoy the last few minutes before they begin playing.

Harry’s teammates chatter around her, joking and laughing easily. They all agree that none of them seem to be the best athletes in the room, but despite Harry’s initial observations of the group, they seem competitive enough to stand a chance.

A loud whistle breaks up their conversation as Adeline struts into the center of the court. Both teams gather around her, and Harry pretends not to see the smirk Louis throws her way. She can’t get distracted— she is in this to win it and she will not let herself get distracted. 

Adeline goes over the rules with them, but it seems simple enough to Harry. They’re going to play three rounds using the universal dodgeball rules. If you’re hit, you’re out. If someone catches your throw, they can bring one of their teammates back in and you’re out. Harry doesn’t think she’s confused about anything and expects the rounds to go by pretty quickly as there’s only five people on each team. 

As they line up along the walls on the opposite sides of the gym, Harry quickly scans over Louis’ team. She doesn’t recognize anyone on her team either, and assumes it’s the same situation where behind the scenes workers have been pulled to fill in these positions. They all look about as comfortable in front of the camera as Harry’s teammates do, and she’s comforted by the fact that there maybe is a chance she’ll get to kick Louis Tomlinson’s ass today.

Adeline counts down from three and blows her whistle, darting out of the way as both teams run to the center of the court to grab the dodgeballs. 

Immediately, it’s a flurry of activity as Harry ducks and does her best to avoid getting hit. Jesse is the first one out, good natured about it as she laughs and runs off to the side to join Adeline. 

The first game goes by quickly, with there only being five players on each team, until Harry’s hit and all that’s left of their team is Liz, who doesn’t stand a chance as Louis lobs a ball in her direction. She barely has time to attempt to move out of the way before it’s smacking her right in the arm and Louis’ team is rushing on to the court to celebrate their victory.

“We’re winning the next one, I promise,” Harry says to her team. She has a desire to get at least one win against Louis, whether she actually wants to win or prove she’s better than Louis, it doesn’t matter. 

Harry actually turns out to be right, when she and Jesse manage to knock out the last two people of Louis’ team. Louis flips her off when Harry looks over at her, but she’s laughing when she does it, so Harry doesn’t think she’s actually too upset.

The third game starts the same as the other two, with them all meeting in the center to grab as many dodgeballs as they can. Liz is out within the first thirty seconds, struck when she turned for half a second to dart back to the gym walls. Harry takes out two of Louis’ teammates with one hit, the ball bouncing off the shoulder of one and hitting the other in the arm. 

Harry manages to avoid being hit by every ball thrown her way, but her teammates don’t have the same luck. Jesse, Allison, and Claire are all hit and taken from the game when Louis’ team still has three players, Louis included. Harry starts to think they may not win this game, but she’s not going down without a fight.

She manages to take out Louis’ teammates, until it’s just the both of them left standing on the court. They stare each other down, both frozen as they wait for the other to make the first move. Harry flinches when Louis shifts slightly, and she watches the mischievous smirk spread slowly across her face.

“Scared, Styles?” she teases. She claps her free hand against the dodgeball, sound reverberating in the small studio gym.

“Not at all,” Harry responds. “You should be, though!”

“Scared of what?” Louis calls back with a laugh. She’s so relaxed that for a second Harry almost forgets they’re playing a game, relaxing her guard just enough for Louis to wind her arm back and lob the dodgeball in her direction.

It misses somehow, luck on Harry’s side for once in her life. She watches the ball zoom past her, feeling the wind on the hair of her arms as it goes, and then looks back up to meet Louis’ eyes, both of their eyes wide. Louis’ shoulders fall in defeat as she seems to realize her inevitable fate.

“Will you make this easy for me?” Harry asks. 

All but one of the balls is on her side of the court, and Louis has limited options. Harry’s going to use this time to collect the dodgeballs into an easily accessible pile so that she can throw them at Louis in rapid fire. She thinks that’s her best strategy at this point, bombard her so she’s overwhelmed, but if Harry misses, their situation will be reversed quickly.

Harry watches the way Louis bends down to grab the dodgeball at her feet, hand stretched as she holds tightly to it.

“No, absolutely not,” she says. 

Tired of waiting around, Harry launches over the first ball, watching as Louis dodges it easily. While she’s straightening back up, Harry throws over another, cursing as this one misses by a smaller margin, just centimeters from knocking into Louis’ shoulder. Louis’ mischievous smirk is back, twisting as she crinkles her nose and fights back her laughter.

“Now I’ve got three dodgeballs and you’ve only got two. What’s your plan now?” she asks, teasing lilt to her words.

“Don’t have much of one,” Harry admits with a shrug. 

She bends over quickly, keeping her eyes on Louis while she picks up the discarded dodgeballs at her feet.

With her free hand, Louis picks up one of the balls at her feet. “Where would you like to be hit? I’ll let you choose.”

“Awfully cocky of you, Tomlinson.”

“Don’t have a reason not to be.”

Harry goes to respond, retort spilling off the tip of her tongue, but is stopped in her tracks as she’s hit right in the gut. Her reaction is delayed, if only because she stares at the offending ball on the ground as if it’s going to offer an explanation as to how it hit her. She looks up and meets Louis’ eyes, jaw dropping to the floor.

“Dick!” Harry yells, but she’s laughing and has no bite behind it.

Louis jogs over and comes to a stop in front of her, cheeks dewy and flushed as she pushes her fringe off of her forehead. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, and she actually sounds concerned, which has Harry’s heart melting into a puddle on the gym floor. 

“Yeah,” Harry answers, suddenly breathless. “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

Louis nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Good. Wouldn’t want to bruise anything besides your ego.”

Harry snorts, rolling her eyes. “This is only the first game, Tomlinson. Wait until I kick your ass at everything else.”

“We’ve only got the escape room left today, darling, and we’ll be working together to get out,” Louis says. “How are you going to kick my ass at that?”

Harry ponders it for a moment, biting at the inside of her cheeks and furrowing her eyebrows. “There are clues in escape rooms, right? Whoever solves the most clues is the winner of the escape room.”

“Deal,” Louis agrees. She reaches her hand out in between them.

Harry stares at it, taking in the ‘28’ tattooed on her fingers, the short, unpainted nails. She doesn’t even realize how long she’s just been staring, unmoving, when Louis clears her throat and wiggles her fingers. 

“Have you ever shaken a hand before, mate?” she teases. 

“No, I’ve not,” Harry answers, laughing and hoping Louis doesn’t notice the flush on her cheeks. She reaches out and takes Louis’ hand in her own, doing her best to hide the way just the simple touch sets her body alight, starting at her fingertips and spreading up her arm until her chest is warm. 

Harry lets her hand drop back down to her side when Louis finally lets her go. They stand there silently for a heartbeat, but before Harry can say or do anything too embarrassing to break the silence, an intern comes over and gives them their instructions about what to do next. Louis gives her a small wave and shy smile that almost looks out of place on her before she’s turning and heading in the direction of her dressing room.

She heads to her own dressing room, doing her best not to get lost in the winding hallways of the studio. She finally finds the door with her name on it, the name plaque bright pink and sparkly like it was personally designed for her (and honestly, it probably was). 

The room is exactly the same as when she left it, fruit basket untouched on the coffee table and garment bag still hanging off to the side. She strips easily out of her shorts and t-shirt, letting them fall to a pile on the ground near the couch. She unzips the bag, taking in the outfit revealed underneath. 

Harry hadn’t been privy to what she would be wearing, every text message to her designer Harris either receiving a horse emoji in response or going totally unanswered. 

Inside the garment bag isn’t anything too out of the ordinary for her to wear, if just a bit more shimmery and sparkly. High waisted gold flare trousers and an almost sheer, satin pink pussy bow blouse catch her eye. She loves the complement of the colors together, and hastily pulls them on. There’s another bag waiting on the floor for her, filled with her shoes and other accessories.

She had taken off her rings to play dodgeball, afraid that one would fly off when she went to throw a ball, but she slips them back on now and feels much more like herself. Once she’s slipped on the white boots and pearl necklace, the outfit is complete. She fluffs her hair in the mirror and snaps a photo to send to Harris, smiling at their response of multiple rainbow and sparkle emojis. 

Figuring she’s taken long enough to get ready, Harry steps back out into the hallway. She’s not entirely sure the direction of studio B, where the escape room has been set up, but she figures if she wanders long enough she’ll either find it or find someone who can point her in the right direction. 

She ends up being right, stumbling upon the studio accidentally after she’s wandered down a few too many deadends. Louis’ already waiting there, smiling and gesticulating wildly as she talks to Adeline. She pauses when she notices Harry approaching, smile widening on her face.

“Harold!” she calls, waving her over. As her arm raises, so does the hem of her cropped polo, revealing the toned skin of her stomach and Harry thinks she might malfunction. 

“Now why would my name be Harold?” she snorts, walking up to them. 

“That’s what Harry’s short for, obviously.” 

“Right, right.” Harry nods, like it makes perfect sense. She thinks she might just agree to anything Louis says, too enraptured by the way her lips move to actually focus on the words coming from them.

Louis finishes speaking, whatever story it was that she had been telling, and Adeline takes advantage of the silence to begin telling them about the rules of the escape room.

“You’ve got an hour to get out, as is standard for most escape rooms,” she explains. “This one is themed Rube Goldberg. If you assemble a working Rube Goldberg with the parts provided to you in the room, then the door will open.”

“Wait, does the Rube Goldberg have to open the door or it just needs to work and you’ll open the door for us?” Harry asks. Her eyebrows pull close together as she tries to remember everything from her school science classes when they learned about Rube Goldberg machines.

“The Rube Goldberg has to open the door,” Adeline answers. “But good question. Any other questions before I lead you to the room?”

They’re silent for a moment, Harry sneaking a glance over at Louis. She looks focused, much in the same way she had been when they were playing dodgeball earlier. She’s starting to get a sense for how competitive the girl really is, furrow between her brows as she appears to bite the inside of her lips.

“I have one, actually,” Louis says. “What if we need out for any reason? How are we able to communicate with you while we’re in there?”

Harry would have never thought to ask something like that, and she finds herself relieved that it’s something that Louis thought of before they were locked inside.

“Oh, yes! We’ll be in contact with you the whole time. Actually, there will be a cameraman in there with you, and then various cameras around the room so we can tape what you’re doing and keep an eye on you. There’s a speaker by the door that I’ll be talking to you through, and a button next to it if you need to speak to me. I’ll be able to hear you through the cameras, but—” Adeline cuts herself off and shrugs. “But it’s more fun to press the button for the speaker.”

Harry and Louis laugh, and Harry finds herself more focused on the way that Louis’ face lights up and the skin by her eyes crinkle than whatever else Adeline is saying. She hopes it wasn’t too important as Adeline starts leading them down the hallway to another studio, this one converted into an escape room for them.

It’s a small room, with two chairs and a table pushed into the corner to make space for all the objects necessary for their Rube Goldberg. Harry takes it all in, her eyes glancing over dominoes, string, a bowling pin, pulleys, toy car race tracks, and more. She feels herself start to get overwhelmed by it all, eyes widening as she gives the pile a second look. Louis is silent beside her, lips pursed and expression serious as she does her own check of the things given to them to work with. 

Adeline wishes them good luck and heads out. A clock above the door starts as soon as the door shuts, counting down from sixty minutes.

“Any idea where to begin?” Harry asks. “It’s, like, a lot.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, but we don’t have to use it all.”

“Oh. We don’t?” Harry doesn’t remember Adeline saying anything about that, but maybe she missed it.

“We don’t, yeah,” Louis says, and there’s a glint in her eyes that Harry can’t necessarily place. “I think she mentioned it right around the time you were too busy staring at me.”

“I wasn’t— I wasn’t staring at you,” Harry protests, but it’s a weak protest when she’s stuttering and blushing the way she is. 

Louis’ smile slowly takes over her face. “Sure. Right. Whatever you say,” she laughs.

Upon another inspection of their supplies, Harry feels even more hopeless and overwhelmed at the idea of making something that will actually get them out of the room, but Louis seems determined. She sets her lips in a straight line, pushes her fringe off her forehead, and gets to work sorting through the pile. She instructs Harry to sort the objects she pulls out into piles based on if she thinks they might go into one another well.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Louis’ got the pile sorted and is helping Harry dig through the stuff she’s deemed good enough to work with. There’s another pile in one corner that Louis had said was “maybes” and another pile that was an all out “no.”

“You’re so good at this,” Harry says, sitting back and watching the way Louis doesn’t hesitate to sort everything. 

She finishes digging through the last pile, tucking the roll of string next to a bowling pin. Harry has no idea how they could possibly work together, but she trusts Louis to know what she’s doing.

“I used to help my sisters with their science projects all the time,” she explains. “I have done plenty of Rube Goldbergs in my time.” She sits back, examining their multiple piles. “Now, let’s get to work.”

Harry starts to think she and Louis might be the perfect team. Louis gives clear and easy to follow instructions, and Harry happily listens. Working together, they’ve set up their Rube Goldberg contraption with twelve minutes left on the clock. Adeline cheers them on through the speakers, but other than that, they don’t need to ask her for any help.

Louis’ visibly buzzing with excitement as she sets a marble at the top of one of the race tracks. Her smile is blinding as she holds up three fingers with her free hand and counts down, mouthing “ _three, two, one_ ” before she drops the marble.

It races down the track, through the numerous loops, before knocking down their intricate array of dominoes. The dominoes fall just as they should, mesmerizing to watch, as they kick start the next part of the contraption. Harry has no idea how Louis managed to come up with this, something so complicated to do something as simple as open the door. 

It’s all going just as it should until the last part, when the bowling pin attached to the pulley is supposed to drop and pull on the string attached to the doorknob and push it down so they can open the door. The bowling ball doesn’t drop far enough, and the string doesn’t pull taunt enough to properly push the doorknob. Harry tries to push on the door, but it doesn’t budge.

She turns to Louis with wide-eyes, unsure of what to do next.

“Well.” Louis claps her hands together in front of her. “We just have to set it up again as quickly as possible and hope for the best. I’ll shorten the string, but we don’t have time to come up with something totally different.”

“Fuck,” Harry curses under her breath.

“Harry!” she hears Adeline over the speakers. “We’re going to have to edit that one out.”

“Sorry,” she laughs, shaking her head and dropping to her knees. 

Her hands shake with excitement and nerves as she resets the dominoes, hopefully placing them just as they were. She can’t remember their exact placement, but she doesn’t have time to stress about it. There’s only eight and a half minutes left on their clock, and the red numbers taunt her as she knocks over dominoes as quickly as she’s trying to pick them back up.

“Hey,” Louis says, dropping to her knees next to Harry. Her hands cover Harry’s, pausing them in their motions. Harry looks up, noticing the softness in Louis’ eyes. None of Harry’s own nerves are reflected there, and it’s calming. “If you go slow, you won’t knock them back over. I know it seems like it takes longer, but it actually takes less time in the long run.”

Harry nods silently. Louis drops her hands and they both go back to work, until the dominoes are back in their place and they’re ready for a second attempt.

“If this one doesn’t work, then—” Louis shrugs, dropping the marble onto the tracks without finishing her sentence.

It doesn’t matter, whatever she was going to say, because this time when the bowling pin drops, the string pulls taunt enough and Harry’s able to push the door open. With less than three minutes left on the timer, they’ve managed to escape the room successfully.

Once through the door, Harry doesn’t even think before she’s jumping into Louis’ arms. It’s awkward at first, Louis obviously not expecting it, until she adjusts her grip on Harry’s thighs and buries her face in Harry’s neck. She spins them once before letting Harry drop back to the ground carefully. Just before she pulls away completely, Harry’s positive she feels the gentle press of lips against the skin of her neck.

Her lips part and her eyes widen as she tries to process if she really felt it or if she was just imagining it. She can’t read Louis’ face, but she doesn’t have the chance to stare and figure it out before Adeline’s joining them and congratulating them on getting out successfully.

“I love doing the escape room because it’s never the same. Even if we give the exact same supplies, different people are going to do something totally different with it,” Adeline says, completely unaware of the tension in the air around them.

Harry can feel Louis’ gaze on her, unwavering even when Harry has to look away, feeling like it’s just too much to handle. Every time she glances up, Louis is still staring at her, eyes narrowed and one eyebrow raised just a hair higher than the other. Harry has no idea what the look means, and if she thinks about it too much her brain shuts off.

Adeline leads them down the hallway back to their original meeting room from that morning. Harry takes her original seat, but Louis opts to sit next to her. Harry wonders how her breathing is ever supposed to go back to normal if she stays in such close proximity to Louis.

Adeline starts speaking at the front of the room, but Harry is distracted by the soft caress of Louis’ pinky against her bare wrist.

She looks up, and the expression on Louis’ face can only be described as _tender_. She thinks her heart actually stops working.

“The dream team, yeah?” Louis whispers.

Harry swallows. “The dream team.”

Louis, seemingly satisfied, turns back around in her seat and listens in on the instructions Adeline’s giving them. Harry, however, can’t focus on anything other than the burning of her skin at the spot where Louis’ pinky had dragged against it. For someone so loud, for someone who commands the attention of the room as soon as she enters, she’s quiet and gentle in every interaction Harry’s had with her.

It’s maddening. 

Adeline lets them all go with a promise to see them the next week for the live show, but Harry has no idea about anything she talked about. She hadn’t even tried to listen, too distracted by Louis’ fingers drumming silently against the tabletop and the way she flicked her hair out of her eyes.

Once she’s free, she heads into her dressing room to change. She’s halfway out of her outfit, top unbuttoned and discarded on the floor, when there’s a knock on her door. She wanders over and opens it without even thinking, dressed only in her high-waisted pants and bralette.

“Oh,” she mumbles, surprised to see Louis on the other side. Her face breaks out into a smile while her cheeks flare up. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Louis’ smile matches her own, and Harry doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel up and down her body once. “I wanted to say goodbye to you before you left.”

“How thoughtful,” Harry teases.

“Yeah, well.” Louis shrugs, smile twisting crookedly. “I wanted to let you know that I had fun today, too. We do make a good team.”

“We do, yeah,” Harry agrees. A thought pops into her head, and debates saying it before she blurts out, “If you ever want to write together, hit me up?”

If Louis’ surprised, she doesn’t show it, smile growing even more, so wide now that Harry’s not sure how it’s not splitting her face.

“I would love to. I think our writing styles would work really well together.”

“Yeah, um, I think so too. That’s why I, uh, that’s why I offered.”

Louis chuckles at the way Harry stutters. Her smile fades a little, relaxing at the edges. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Definitely.” Harry gives a little wave, watching as Louis turns and leaves and heads back down the hallway. If she gives a little once over of her own, admiring the tight fit of Louis’ joggers along her ass and thighs, then that’s nobody’s business but her own.

She finishes packing up her things, shoved haphazardly into her bag. She does take the time to carefully hang her outfit back into the garment bag, afraid of Harris’ wrath if she damages it. 

The drive home is not any quicker at five in the evening than it had been during the morning rush hour. For the hour it takes her to drive five miles, she debates whether or not it would be worth it to move to some small Idaho town, just so she never has to deal with traffic again.

Inside, Harry throws her back down in the entryway and plops down on the couch. She reaches for one of her throw pillows and buries her face in the fabric, screaming into it. Once she’s satisfied that she’s done all the screaming she needs to for the moment, she picks up the phone and calls Liam.

He picks up on the third ring, and Harry interrupts him before he can even ask her how her day was.

“You were right,” she says.

“What?”

“You were right!”

“About?” he asks. While he’s not there with her, she can just imagine the quirk of his eyebrow, the amused expression he’s definitely wearing.

“I have a crush on Louis Tomlinson.”

He laughs at her for so long she actually hangs up on him. When he calls back, he’s still laughing, and she hangs up on him again. 

He doesn’t even bother calling back again, just shows up at her doorstep with a bag of takeout from the Italian place on the corner and lets her scream about her day until they’re both ready for bed.

* * *

“Are you nervous?” Niall asks, drumming her fingers absentmindedly on the table as they wait for Zayn. 

“Nervous for what?” she asks. 

“You know, going on Adeline’s show with Louis,” Niall elaborates. Harry doesn’t get a chance to respond before Niall’s eyes light up, noticing as Zayn approaches. She waves the girl over, drawing attention to them, but Niall doesn’t seem to care as people sneakily try to take photos of the trio. 

Harry greets Zayn when she sits down, complimenting her new haircut. It’d been so long before, down to the middle of her back, but now it’s cut into a short bob that falls just underneath her jawline. It suits her, and she tells Zayn as much.

“I’ve missed you idiots,” Zayn says. “It’s weird not seeing each other basically every day. I think the longest we’d gone without seeing each other before this break was, like, two weeks?”

Harry puffs up her cheeks and lets it out in a heavy sigh. “I think you’re right. Which is— that’s wild, right? Like that wasn’t normal.”

“I don’t think anything that happened to us was _normal_ ,” Zayn laughs. 

“No, I guess not,” Harry agrees. 

She smiles, mostly to herself, thinking of all the trouble they used to get into backstage and on the tour bus. It was the only way to keep from going insane sometimes, having water gun fights and tormenting their crew. 

A server comes over and takes their order, quiet when she tells them that she’s a big fan, and Harry promises to take a photo with her once they’re done with their meal. Once she’s gone, a mischievous smile appears on Niall’s face again, and Harry knows what she’s going to ask before the words are out of her mouth.

“So, are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous to go on Adeline’s show?”

“Because of Louis,” Zayn says. Her and Niall share a look, and Harry doesn’t like whatever _that_ means. 

“Have you guys been talking about this behind my back?” she accuses. 

At their nod, she gasps dramatically and throws a hand over her heart, pretending to be offended. She doesn’t care, really. She’s used to having no secrets between them, living out of each other’s pockets. Everybody’s business was everybody’s business. That hasn’t changed just because they don’t see each other every day anymore.

“We just wondered if there was something going on that we didn’t know about,” Niall says. “That’s all, honest.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust you on that?” Harry teases, laughing softly. 

Niall nods. “Cross my heart. Now tell us, is there anything going on between you two?”

“Um, no.” Harry clears her throat. “Just a bit of friendly rivalry. She’s really nice, actually. We recorded the pre-taped bits earlier this week. We get on really well. But that’s about all I’ve got for you. No juicy gossip here, I’m afraid.”

If Niall and Zayn are disappointed to hear it, they definitely don’t show it. Their eyes glint suspiciously and they share a look.

“You like her,” Zayn says, and it’s not a question. 

“Why did I agree to have lunch with you idiots? You’ve been here five minutes and you’ve already picked my brain,” Harry says, laughing. 

Somewhere in the distance, a plate drops and shatters, the sound loud in the mostly quiet restaurant, but Harry’s more focused on the warm feelings from being reunited with her best friends and falling so easily into their friendship. Conversation turns to updates on Zayn and Niall’s lives, how their respective new solo careers are going, picking slowly at their food when it arrives, too distracted by catching up than actually eating.

They finish their meal, taking a photo with their lovely server when their plates are cleared, but stay at the table for just a little longer, unwilling to part so soon. Without their schedules being exactly the same anymore, it’s harder to find time for the three of them to meet up.

“So what are you going to do about your crush on Louis?” Niall asks, a sharp turn in conversation from talking about Niall’s long days in the recording studio.

“I thought we’d moved past this,” Harry says, burying her face in her hands with a groan.

“We definitely haven’t,” Zayn says. “Maybe you did, but _I_ didn’t get the answers I wanted.” 

Harry lifts her head from her hands and narrows her eyes into slits. “I’m not going to do anything about it. We’re going to record the live show next week, have a good time, and then there’s a good chance we don’t even talk again after that.”

“Lame,” Niall says, rolling her eyes. “I want a better answer than that.”

“The best I can guarantee is that there _might_ be flirting. Can that be enough for you dickheads?”

“Fine, fine,” Niall concedes. “That’s enough _for now_.”

Zayn nods her head in agreement. “We expect updates. And good news hopefully. Like maybe you’ll hang out after the show is finished recording. That would be ideal.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Harry says. “I’ll do my best to flirt with Louis and see where it goes, _if_ you finally tell Liam how you feel.” 

Harry meets Niall’s eyes across the table, barely biting back a laugh as Niall throws her own head back and snorts. Zayn’s crush on Liam has been no secret ever since Harry introduced them at a party a few years ago, but she’s never done anything about it. Kind of hypocritical of her, Harry thinks, to try and tell her to pursue Louis when she’s never tried to pursue Liam.

“We’re not talking about that right now,” Zayn says, cheeks flaring red. 

Niall laughs even harder and Harry joins in, glad the conversation has diverted its attention from her once again. 

When they say goodbye, it’s with promises to not wait so long before they do this again. Harry watches them walk the opposite direction from her with a sinking heart. Goodbyes are always so bittersweet, leaving with the happy memories but with promises to see each other again and no definitive plans to do so. 

She drives home, windows down, music blaring. She forgets that other people can see her, that every car that passes by can look into her car and see her jamming out. For just a moment in time, she doesn’t worry about people judging her taste in music when she comes to a stop at a light. She turns the music up and jams, singing loudly and not caring about how she sounds. Sometimes, it’s good to let loose.

Louis’ song comes on when she’s about five minutes from her house. It’s perfect timing, she thinks, maxing out the volume on her car speaker until she can’t even hear herself. 

At the next stoplight, Harry notices a carful of girls next to her trying to be discreet as they record her. She waves, letting them know that she’s on to them, but she doesn’t stop singing. Sure, any videos they take are going to end up on the internet within five minutes, but she doesn’t care. She’s just having fun, and a little embarrassment is worth the momentary freedom she feels from belting good music and feeling the wind in her hair as she drives.

She goes about her evening routine, slipping into her comfiest joggers and loosest t-shirt. She dances around her bedroom as she opens the windows, lights her favorite candles, and changes the sheets on her bed. 

Just as Harry’s fallen onto her fresh change of sheets, her phone buzzes on the nightstand. It’s a twitter notification, and of _course_ , it’s Louis. 

_‘Loved that video of you jamming out to my song @Harry_Styles. Finally ready to admit I’m the rightful owner of that no. 1 spot?’_

Harry’s cheeks flame as she rereads the tweet, just barely resisting the urge to roll over and scream into her pillow. 

A search of her name reveals that, yes, the video of her singing along to Louis’ song has already been posted online. Most of the comments are making fun of her, in the way that her fans love to do, but there are a lot of comments about her and Louis. She reads a few tweets about how she's such a supportive girlfriend and furrows her eyebrows. 

She ignores it for a moment to respond to Louis’ tweet. This event actually works in her favor, since Zak told her she needed to be more online to promote her appearance on the late night show anyway.

_‘Very funny. People are going to find out next week on the Late Show how much better I am than you @Louis_Tomlinson’_

After she sends the tweet, Harry starts scrolling through her notifications. The longer she scrolls, the more she sees about how cute of a couple her and Louis are. Her confusion only grows. How can they be a cute couple if they’ve never even publicly been seen together?

She decides to go straight to the source and send a message to Louis.

_‘Why is everyone saying we’re a cute couple? What did you do?’_

She goes back to scrolling through her timeline while she waits for Louis’ response, but she doesn’t have to wait too long.

 _‘Why do you assume I’ve done something?’_

Harry snorts. She doesn’t even try to fight back the smile spreading across her face. No one’s around to see it and make fun of her for it when she’s alone in her room.

_‘Because I know that I haven’t done anything, so that narrows down the list by half. So, asking again, what did you do?’_

She doesn’t even click out of the messages this time, Louis’ typing bubble popping up immediately. She expects a cheeky response, but instead all she gets is a string of numbers that Louis clarifies is _her_ phone number.

Harry fish mouths at the message for thirty seconds before another message from Louis pops up, telling Harry to call her, not text. 

She gives herself thirty more seconds to compose herself and stop her hands from shaking before she copies the number into her contacts and then dials it. Louis picks up on the second ring, and Harry resists the urge to hang up.

“Hey there,” Louis says, and while Harry can’t see her, she knows exactly what kind of mischievous smirk the girl is (probably) sporting.

“So what did you do?” Harry asks.

“I didn’t do anything!” Louis protests. She chuckles and Harry can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of her lips. “Honestly, I promise to you.”

“Alright, alright. I believe you. So what’s all this about us being a cute couple? Where did that come from?”

“It’s kind of been around awhile. You know how it is. Single, both into women, conventionally attractive. We must be into each other then, right?”

Harry feels her cheeks heat up, embarrassed by her reaction to Louis calling her “conventionally attractive.” Honestly, Harry _knows_ she’s attractive, and Louis’ not even necessarily complimenting her, but it’s still got her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Oh, we must be,” Harry teases. Louis doesn’t know just how true it actually is for her. Now that she’s admitted to her crush on Louis, it only grows stronger. In the few minutes they’ve been on the phone together, Harry’s heart hasn’t stopped hammering, loud in her ears. “They think that, even if they’ve never seen us publicly together?”

“Rumors have a funny way of spreading, I guess. And they think that our tweets to each other are flirting.”

The line is silent for a second while Harry thinks of how to respond to that. She should just laugh it off, honestly. It gets weirder, the longer she sits and doesn’t respond. 

“Of course,” Louis breaks the silence before she gets a chance to, “they wouldn’t be too far off base.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry asks. She won’t let herself believe it, won’t let herself read into the words. Louis’ not saying that she’s _flirting_ with Harry.

Louis doesn’t even hesitate in her response. “I’m flirting with you, obviously. Keep up, Styles.”

Harry stares at her ceiling, blinking in shock. Louis _is_ saying that she’s flirting with Harry. Unable to process this information, she replays the words over and over on a loop in her brain, forgetting that she’s still on the phone with Louis. 

“Hello? Did you fall asleep? Did your brain stop working?” Louis’ voice interrupts her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

She takes a deep breath, ignoring the way it shakes as she exhales. “You’re flirting with me?”

“You couldn’t tell?” Louis snorts. 

Harry wishes she could see her so badly, just to see the expressions on her face. She shakes her head before she realizes that Louis can’t see her either.

She swallows, fighting her newly dry mouth. “No. No, I couldn’t tell.”

“Like I said before— keep up, Styles.” 

And then she’s _gone_ , hanging up the phone. Harry stays on for so long her phone starts beeping at her, so she locks it and sets it beside her on the bed. 

She stares up at the ceiling, unsure what to do with this news. Is it just harmless flirting, with no real intention of going further? Is Louis looking for something casual? Is she just messing around? Would she be interested in something more serious?

Before she can spiral too much, Harry sends a text message to Liam, letting him know of this new update. It doesn’t take more than five minutes before he’s texting her back a bunch of question marks.

_‘Louis says she’s flirting with me, can you not read? What do you think she means?????’_

He reads her message immediately, grey bubble popping up as he types.

_‘It means she’s flirting with you. Idiot.’_

Since he’s obviously not going to be any help to her, she doesn’t bother responding to him. She locks her phone and rolls over, closing her eyes and aiming for sleeping. If she dreams about blue eyes with crinkles by them and a soft, brown fringe, then it’s nobody’s business but her own.

* * *

Harry arrives on time to the late night show’s studio, instead of showing up thirty minutes late like the week before. She strolls confidently into the same conference room, only to find it empty save for Adeline. She’s on a phone call, but she waves to Harry when she walks in and motions for her to help herself to the table of pastries and coffee in the back. 

She’s just settling in with her croissant and cup of coffee when Louis strolls in. Her eyes scan the room quickly before settling on Harry, her face softening into a sweet expression.

“Good morning,” she says. “Nice to see you’re on time today.”

“You’re late one time and people won’t let you forget it,” Harry mumbles, returning Louis’ smile. 

Louis excuses herself for a second to grab her own breakfast and coffee, claiming the seat next to Harry’s when she returns. 

“Are you excited for today?” she asks, taking a large bite of her blueberry scone. A few crumbs fall onto the edge of the table and cling to the corners of her lips, and Harry only thinks momentarily about leaning in and kissing them away.

“I think so. Not too excited to eat super gross things, but other than that I think it’ll be a fun day,” Harry answers honestly, shrugging slightly. 

The plan is to do a _Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts_ segment and a quick interview to talk about their singles and upcoming music releases. Instead of both of them performing (or only one of them), they’re going to do a bit where they see how many lyrics from each other’s songs they know. Harry thinks she’s got that one in the bag. She’d always been a big fan of Louis’ band when she was in it, and they’re still one of her top three artists on Spotify. If Louis had more songs released, she’d probably be up there too. 

“If you’d answer the questions, you wouldn’t have to eat gross things,” Louis says matter of factly.

“You and I both know I’m not going to answer _any_ of them,” Harry laughs. She takes a sip of her coffee and instantly regrets it. It’s bitter, definitely burnt, and already gone cold. She manages to swallow it and sets the cup back down, pushing it away from her. “Don’t drink the coffee.”

Louis pushes her own cup away from her with a curt nod. “Noted.”

The rest of the crew trickles in steadily until the meeting time, when Adeline starts the meeting and gives them a run-through of how the day’s going to go. They’re going to do a rehearsal, work out some of the kinks, and then they’ll be sent to hair and makeup while the crew prepares to go on the air. 

Adeline answers a few last minute questions, but other than that everyone seems to be on the same page, and they move forward with rehearsals. 

Rehearsals go without many problems. Louis teases Harry, except this time Harry is reading way too much into it. She had no idea if the things she’s saying are flirting or friendly or some combination of both, and Louis doesn’t say or do anything to clarify. She doesn’t seem like she’s going to bring up their phone conversation from a few nights ago, and Harry sure as hell isn’t, so apparently they’re going to keep dancing around the subject.

Back in her dressing room, her stylist and makeup artist help her prepare for the show. As always, getting ready with them is more fun than actual work, and Harry ends up laughing so hard at one point that she laughs off part of her eyeliner and has to have it reapplied.

Once she’s all dressed for the night, in high waisted pink trousers and a white button-up top (mostly unbuttoned), she settles down and prepares herself to go on live television. No matter how many times she goes in front of a crowd, there’s always a small rush of nerves.

Her stylists have already gone, kissing her on the forehead and wishing her luck, so she’s surprised when there’s a light knock at her door. She crosses the room and opens it, revealing Louis on the other side.

“Hey,” Louis says casually. “How are you doing?”

“A little nervous,” Harry answers honestly. “What about you?”

“Really nervous, actually.”

And Harry can see it, now that Louis’ said so, the spooked look in her eyes, the tension in her body, the shakiness in her hands. Harry sees her red bitten lips and doesn’t even think before grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her in for a tight hug. Louis relaxes into it easily, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist and settling her head in the crook of her neck.

“It’s hard without your bandmates, isn’t it?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. “I’m used to having someone to lean on.”

Harry pulls away just enough that she can look Louis in the eyes, gripping her gently by the shoulders. “You can lean on me, idiot. I’ll be right there next to you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Louis says, her face breaking into a smile. It’s instantaneous, the way the sight warms Harry. “Now, are you ready to get out there and get your ass kicked for the whole world to see?”

“Well I don’t know about the whole world,” Harry mumbles, laughing softly. 

Louis leads her down the winding hallways, something Harry’s grateful for as nothing looks familiar to her. She’s definitely spent enough time in the studio to at least know her way around a little bit, but she’s sure she would have gotten lost.

A few of the techs get them taped up with mics and make sure they’re hidden by their outfits. They get themselves set up behind the curtain, ready to walk out as soon as Adeline starts the show with her monologue.

Adeline’s monologue is similar to the way it is every night, this time with the added flair of rainbow lights shining down on her as she talks about the special show for the night. There’s a whole week of pride shows happening, but Harry and Louis’ episode is kicking it off, and she says as much as she gives them each a brief introduction, their cue to walk out onto the stage.

The small studio audience applauds for them, and Harry smiles and waves at as many people as she can see through the blinding lights. 

Adeline continues on a bit with introductions, thanking them for joining her on the show, before she leads them over to the table where they’ll do their first segment. It’s the part of the show Harry’s least looking forward to, especially as she studies all the food on the table.

Harry wants to lean over and whisper something about how gross this all looks, but she’s worried the mics might pick it up, so she just sits on her hands and swallows down her comments. 

“So, I thought I’d do a nice little ice breaker for us,” Adeline says. “Just to get to know each other and get rid of any awkwardness that we might have.”

“Right, right,” Louis says, nodding. “Because we’ve never worked together before this moment right now.”

Harry snorts, trying to cover her mouth with her hand, but it’s too late. Louis’ noticed, face breaking out into a proud smile as she realizes she’s the cause of Harry’s laughter.

“Correct,” Adeline agrees, joining in with Harry’s laughter. “I’m sure you know the rules of the game, but in case you don’t, it’s really quite simple. I’m going to be asking each of you questions, and before every question I will decide what delicious food on this table you’ll have to eat if you decide not to answer. We’ve got quite a lovely selection— a shot of hot sauce, a blended up turkey and cheese sandwich, and pickles dipped in marshmallow fluff.”

Harry takes it in. She thinks she could drink a shot of hot sauce, no problem, but the blended sandwich and the pickles don’t look so appetizing to her. There’s two servings of each of the foods, one for both her and Louis. She knows they’ll each be asked three questions, but she hopes she answers at least one. 

“Harry, I think I’m going to have you go first,” Adeline says. “And I think I’d like you to do the shot of hot sauce.”

Harry nods, doing her best to school her expression into something more serious. She’s not sure how successful she is, but she manages to keep from laughing.

“Between Niall and Zayn, who your favorite bandmate—”

Harry’s got the shot of hot sauce tossed to the back of her throat before Adeline even finishes the question, swallowing it all as quickly as she can. It coats the inside of her mouth, and she’s always been a wimp with hot foods, but she manages to keep from coughing. Her eyes water minimally, but she thinks she takes it in grace.

“Didn’t want to answer that one, huh?” Louis laughs, eyes crinkling.

“The answer to that question’ll stay in my head forever,” Harry jokes, shaking her head.

“Alright, Louis, you’re up. I think I’ll have you try the pickle and marshmallow fluff,” Adeline says, spinning the lazy Susan until the pickles are in front of Louis.

“Bring it,” she says, determination in her eyes. Harry has no doubt that she’s going to answer whatever question is asked of her. 

“You’ve surely been to plenty of celebrity’s houses by this point in your career,” Adeline prefaces. “What’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever taken from someone’s house?”

Louis pretends to think it over for a moment. “I actually don’t think I’ve taken anything crazy. One time I was at a party at Ariana Grande’s house and before my Uber came to pick me up, I stole a bowl of fruit off her kitchen counter. I was drunk and hungry and it was just there.”

Harry throws her head back and laughs, eyes closed and genuinely surprised. It sounds exactly like something Louis would do. 

Adeline takes a moment to compose herself, hiding her laughter behind her set of notecards. Once she composes herself, taking a deep, steadying breath, she fires off another question at Harry. “Easy one for you, Harry. I’m going to give you the pickles if you don’t want to answer this one.”

“Lay it on me,” she says.

“Least favorite person you’ve ever collaborated with while writing?”

She genuinely has to think about her answer for a second, running through a list of people she’s collaborated with in her head. Once she thinks of an answer, she debates whether or not to spill, but decides she might as well. He already knows that she doesn’t like him, and she owes him no loyalty.

“Ugh, Griffin Adams,” she says, huffing. “He came in and worked with us for one session. The song we wrote we ended up scrapping as soon as he left. He came in and wouldn’t listen to any of our suggestions and talked over us and wanted to change everything about our sound. Absolutely annoying.”

“Men,” Louis scoffs. 

Adeline nods in agreement. “That’s okay— because you scrapped a song from him, there was room for another song that showcased your talents and personalities so much better.”

Harry gives her a thankful smile, features softening as she forgets they’re being recorded for a second. She thinks that’s the true testament to how great of a host Adeline is, the way she makes Harry feel like they’re just hanging out instead of doing actual work.

The rest of the segment continues on tamely, all things considered. Louis, of course, answers every question asked of her, and Harry doesn’t answer anymore. She thinks she’s done enough revealing for the time being, especially as there’s still a small interview they have to get through.

There’s a small commercial break, and then their dodgeball segment plays. They sit on the couch while it plays, Harry and Louis talking quietly while Adeline is off somewhere else.

“Having fun?” Louis asks, fingers twitching on her bouncing knee. Harry wants to reach a hand out and stop the bouncing, take her hands and tell her she’s got nothing to worry about, but she doesn’t know if that’s crossing a line so she keeps her hands firmly to herself.

“So far,” she answers. “I think it’s more fun that you’re here.”

Under the bright lights and layers of makeup on Louis’ face, Harry thinks she can make out a faint blush tinting her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she whispers, and for a moment they just stare at each other, bubble around them as they forget they’re in a crowded studio, cameras pointed at them in every direction. The bubble bursts when Adeline comes back, plopping heavily into the chair next to them with a loud sigh.

“Ready for the next bit?” she asks.

Harry nods. “Ready to keep not answering any of your questions.”

Adeline laughs, shuffling through her notecards. As much as it’s a joke, Harry really does do her best to answer questions in the best way she can to protect her privacy. She likes to control the image of herself that the world sees, giving just enough that people are satisfied but not so much that she feels like she’s losing herself.

Someone counts them back in, applause starting up momentarily, a signal that they’re back on the air. Adeline gives a brief introduction, joking easily with the pair.

“Alright, serious note for a second,” Adeline says. “I just want to thank you both, sincerely, for coming on this show. And I want to say I’m proud of you both for coming out. It’s hard enough to come out, but to do so when the whole world is watching? I can’t imagine. I know there’s going to be negative comments and homophobes, but if I could just give you a little bit of positivity and praise for a moment, I’d love to do so. You both are such genuinely kind women, and I just wanted to say thank you and I’m proud. That’s all, really.”

Harry blinks back tears, having not expected her to say any of that. Yeah, they were there for pride week, but she thought they were going to keep it lighthearted, maybe ask a few questions about their dating lives. 

“Oh, thank you, Adeline,” Louis says, collecting herself first. Her own voice sounds thick, and Harry can see her throat move as she swallows. “That means a lot.”

Harry nods. “I hope it doesn’t sound insincere when I say thank you. I really do mean it. I’ve enjoyed my time working with you these past few days.”

“How very sweet of you,” Adeline says. She glances down at the notecards in her hands. “I’ve got a bunch of pre-written questions, but honestly I’m going to ignore them. I’d rather just have a conversation with you both. I don’t want this to feel scripted and like you’ve got to give scripted answers. Obviously, only answer and talk about what you’re comfortable with, but I’d like to start off with asking about how the support’s been for you both since coming out?”

“Um, well,” Harry clears her throat. She tries again, “Honestly, it’s been really good. For me, at least. The positive has outweighed the negative. I’ve received a lot of messages from people telling me that I’ve helped them with their own coming out or with exploring their own sexuality, which is really cool. I wish I could respond to all of them individually, but all I can do is keep saying thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Louis agrees, nodding beside her. “Basically the same thing here. I mean, people have always had their assumptions about me. I’m not the most feminine girl, which doesn’t equate sexuality at all, but people talk. I’ve been really happy with the reactions I’ve received, really. I expected so much worse, and I’m so thankful for the love my fans, and honestly everyone, have shown me.”

Harry can see in Adeline’s eyes the way she’s genuinely listening to them, notecards abandoned on the table next to her. She nods along as they speak, mouth twitching as she fights back a smile. 

“Was there anything that helped in your decision to come out?” she asks. “Like anything that really said to you ‘this is the time to do it?’”

Harry answers first again. “Not really. I suppose, being on my own for the first time, I wanted to be as authentic to myself as possible.”

Louis shifts on the couch beside her. Harry glances over and sees the nervous drumming of her fingertips on her knee. She just barely resists the urge to reach over and calm her down, intertwine her fingers and ask her what’s wrong.

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on coming out,” Louis says. “At least, not anytime soon.”

“What changed?” Adeline asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Louis’ eyes dart in Harry’s direction, so brief she would almost believe she imagined it, if not for the way Louis does it again. This time, she holds Harry’s gaze for a few seconds before turning back to Adeline.

“Harry came out,” Louis says. 

Harry doesn’t fight her urge to reach over and grab Louis’ hand when it washes over her this time. She reaches over and tangles their fingers together, giving Louis’ hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging her to go on.

Louis squeezes back, inhaling shakily before continuing, “I just— I saw how brave she was to tell the whole world who she really is and I thought, ‘I should do that.’ I don’t know if I’d even thought of coming out for at least a few more years if Harry didn’t. Our situations are so similar and I saw the positive reception she received and I realized I was sick of hiding such a huge part of who I am.”

Harry bites her tongue to keep from saying something stupid or overly emotional. She sniffles, trying to fight back her tears. 

“Lou,” she whispers, not even caring if the microphones can pick it up. This moment isn’t for the world; it’s for _them_. “You’re so brave, you know?”

“Thanks,” she says back, just as softly. “You too.”

“ _God_ ,” Adeline says, sounding more like a choked back sob. “I’m sorry, I was not expecting that. Um, after this break we’ve got more of these two and a little performance for you all. Stay tuned!”

Adeline excuses herself to go wipe away the tears that slipped through and reapply her mascara, leaving Harry and Louis on the couch together. Their hands are still clasped tightly together, and Harry has no plans on letting go until she has to.

“That was a lot, sorry,” Louis mumbles.

“What are you sorry for?” Harry asks, eyebrows pulling together.

Louis gives her a look like she’s grown a second head. “Like, telling you all that stuff, especially while on live television. I was kind of caught off guard; I couldn’t help myself.”

“Louis, no offense, but you’re so dumb,” Harry says, chuckling. “Why wouldn’t I want to know that? I was _just_ talking about how incredible it was that people were telling me I helped them come out, and then _you_ go and say the same thing. Someone who I really admire goes and says that _I_ helped them. Pretty cool, if you ask me.”

A reluctant smile twitches at Louis’ lips while she rolls her eyes. She gives Harry’s hand another squeeze before letting go, reaching and picking at a loose thread on her t-shirt.

“You’re pretty cool, Styles,” Louis says. 

Harry bites at the inside of her cheek to try and keep her smile from overtaking her face, but she knows it’s no good. She’s a goner for Louis and she knows it’s written all over her face, in her eyes, and the way she looks at her. Anyone could take one glance at them and know that Harry is a goner.

Adeline comes back from reapplying her makeup, breaking up the moment, but that doesn’t stop Harry and Louis from sharing a secret smile. 

Back from commercial break, Adeline explains to the audience that instead of a performance, Harry and Louis will be going up against each other to test out the knowledge of the other’s discography. Even though Louis’ beat her at everything else they’ve done, Harry feels like she has a chance at winning this one.

Just before the music starts up, Louis reaches over and curls her pinky around Harry’s. She drops it just as quickly, but it warms up Harry’s whole hand, the feeling traveling all the way to her chest until she’s standing there so distracted she doesn’t even realize the music has started.

Luckily, Louis’ going first, tapping her foot along to the music as she listens to the song play. When the lyrics cut out and the music keeps going, she manages to finish the verse, singing, _“And if he feels my traces in your hair, sorry, love, but I don’t really care.”_

Harry is both laughing and fighting back tears as she listens to Louis sing a song that she wrote herself. It’s like Louis was perfectly made to sing the lyrics, and she allows herself to think about what a song by both of them would sound like. 

At Harry’s turn, she finishes the lyrics to _Home_. She’s glad Adeline chose that song, whether intentional or not, as that’s one of Harry’s all time favorites from Louis’ band. She’s sad they never performed it live, but maybe she can convince Louis to sing it just for her sometime. 

It continues on like that, both of them finishing out the verses of each other’s songs without missing a beat. At the final song, Louis changes the word “lay” to “lie” in _Infinity_ and Harry manages to sing _Through the Dark_ without messing up any of it, making her the official winner of the game. 

She jumps into Louis’ arms and buries her face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent and barely resisting the urge to plant kisses on the soft skin there. She pulls away just enough to rest her forehead against Louis’, both of them smiling widely at each other.

“You finally won,” Louis says.

“About damn time.”

Louis laughs, barely audible over the cheers and applause of the crowd, but Harry can see it in the way her eyes close and her mouth just barely opens. 

Eventually, they have to pull away, but Harry’s skin still tingles from the spots where they were touching. They wave their goodbyes to the audience, blowing kisses and bowing, mouthing ‘thank yous.’ 

Wrapping up the show goes quickly, saying goodbye to the crew and thanking all of them for their hard work. 

Back in her dressing room, Harry changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants, throwing her hair into a bun on top of her head. Just as she’s finished packing up her bag and making sure she’s picked up all the trash in the room, there’s a knock at the door. She suspects it’s Louis, but tries not to get her hopes up.

Sure enough, Louis’ standing in the hallway, hands tucked deep into the pockets of her sweatpants as she waits for Harry to open the door. Her face lights up when it opens, eyes bright as she straightens up.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.” Harry opens the door wider, allowing her to pass into the room. She takes a seat on the couch, and Harry debates for all of three seconds before she plops down on the cushion next to her. “Come here for a reason?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Harry motions for her to go on, waving theatrically.

“I don’t want today to be the last time we see each other,” Louis says, words rushed out together and admitted in almost one breath. Harry must look confused because she takes a deep breath and explains, “I don’t want us to have this week together and then leave here and then say we’ll talk and hang out but we don’t. I think you’re interesting and fun and kind and someone I want to probably keep around for a while.”

“Probably?” Harry snorts, closing her eyes and shaking her head. When she opens them again, Louis’ staring right at her, a worried expression on her face as she picks at her lip with her top teeth. Harry reaches over and pulls at Louis’ lip with her thumb, gently tugging it out from her teeth. 

“I want us to be at least friends. Maybe more, if you’d be interested in that,” Louis says. “I just don’t want this week to be all we shared.”

“Louis,” Harry says softly. She shifts her hand until she’s resting her hand on Louis’ cheek, rubbing her thumb over the skin there. “I definitely want us to stay friends, and I want to see where this could go, too, if you want that.”

“I want that,” Louis whispers, nodding. 

Harry isn’t sure who leans in first, barely even notices the pull that she feels until she’s centimeters from Louis’ mouth, feeling more than hearing her whisper, “Tell me now if you don’t want this.”

She doesn’t even respond, just closes the distance between them and allows herself to take what she’s been wanting all week. Their lips slot together easily, gentle presses of their mouths as they move closer and closer, until it turns less gentle and more urgent. 

Louis bites at her bottom lip, slipping her tongue in easily when Harry gasps. Louis’ hands are unforgiving where they grip her by the waist, fingers pressing in until Harry’s sure there will be purple reminders of this moment for a week. 

Louis breaks away after she pulls Harry’s hair and Harry _whines_ , perfectly flushed as she tries to catch her breath. Harry tries not to pout, wanting to kiss Louis until they can’t feel their mouths anymore.

“I didn’t want to go further than that in a dressing room,” Louis explains, darting her eyes around the room. “Sorry if that’s, like, not—”

“Louis if you apologize for one more dumb thing I’m going to whack you upside the head,” Harry interrupts. “We can go as fast or slow as you want, we can do it wherever you want, and we can do nothing at all. Stop apologizing!”

A grateful smile twists Louis’ lips. She leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s mouth. She stands up from the couch and offers her hand to help pull Harry to her feet, giving her another kiss when they’re both standing.

“So,” she says, picking Harry’s bag up from the ground and tossing it over her own shoulder. “Want to go get ice cream?”

* * *

Harry takes up an easy friendship with Louis. She doesn’t feel any pressure when hanging out with her, always able to be herself and let go a little. Being a woman in the industry often comes with extra scrutiny, but Louis doesn’t judge when Harry decides to not shave her legs for a few weeks or goes back for seconds after a meal. Louis _understands_ , and understanding is something that Harry rarely gets from people she meets within the industry.

Despite hanging out all the time, they haven’t done much more than share a few chaste kisses. It seems that anytime Harry hints at doing anything more, Louis freezes up and changes the subject. Harry tried to ask her about it once, but Louis’ phone started ringing and she looked so relieved that Harry didn’t bring it up again. 

She’d obviously respect Louis’ boundaries, no matter what they are, but she just wishes that Louis would _talk_ to her about it.

Liam, of course, is no help. When she tries to talk to him, he just laughs at her. He adds that she just has to do her best to make sure she’s communicating that she wants to respect Louis’ boundaries, but she can’t do that if she doesn’t know what they are. Harry would love to do that, if Louis would even listen.

So, it’s kind of frustrating, but the fun they have together is enough to outweigh her frustrations and worries (for now). 

Harry’s not even thinking about it the next time she hangs out with Louis, cuddled up as they watch _Notting Hill_. Louis drags her pointer finger up and down the bare skin of Harry’s arm, goosebumps trailing in its wake. She stopped paying attention to the movie as soon as Louis started doing it, too focused on the feeling and trying to keep her breathing steady.

“You’re missing the movie,” Louis whispers.

“How’d you know I wasn’t paying attention?” Harry asks. She doesn’t lift her head from Louis’ chest.

“Your eyes are closed.”

Harry laughs, opening them, unaware she had even shut them. She glances up at Louis, just barely able to see her through her eyelashes. “Did I miss anything important?”

“You’ve seen this movie hundreds of times, I’m not even going to bother answering you,” Louis teases. She pushes Harry’s hair off of her forehead and leans down, planting a gentle kiss. 

Now would be the time for her to bring it up, to ask Louis what’s going on. Even beyond the fact that Louis doesn’t seem to want to kiss her, she wants to know what they are. Are they friends who kiss a little? Friends that cuddle? Taking it slow but on the road to something more? 

Of course, Louis starts twisting her hair into tiny braids so she distractedly closes her eyes again and leans into the feeling. Thoughts of anything besides how good it feels to be held and touched by Louis slip from her mind.

When Louis leaves that night, Harry doesn’t even remember that she wanted to talk about it in the first place.

* * *

“What are you doing right now?” Louis asks once Harry picks up the phone, not even bothering with a greeting.

“Um, not much,” Harry answers. “Working on some writing, but I’m struggling so I guess I should give it up for the night.”

“Oh, if you’re busy—”

“Louis, did you not just hear me say that I’m getting nowhere with it and I was going to give up for the night?”

Louis laughs, just as beautiful as always, even when Harry can’t watch the way her face lights up and her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Can I come over, then?” she asks. 

“You can always come over. What am I gonna do, say no?”

“You could,” Louis says. “One day you could look at me and decide you’re sick of my friendship.”

“Never!” Harry gasps, almost offended. 

“Alright, no need to be so dramatic,” Louis says, laughing. “I’ll be over in twenty. Do you want to place an order at that Chinese restaurant down the street and I’ll pick it up for us?”

“A woman after my heart. Yes, please.”

Louis says goodbye, promising again to be there in twenty, and then hangs up the phone. Harry sets her phone down on the coffee table and glares at her abandoned notebook and guitar. She’s getting nowhere with any of the songs she’s tried working on for the night, and she figures it’s for the best that she takes a break.

She’s been having trouble writing in the studio, too. At this point, Zak has told her he’s not going to bring in anymore people to work with her if she’s just going to waste their time. She promised him she’d have something decent to show him by the end of the week, but now the end of the week is almost over and she has nothing to show for it.

Lost in her thoughts, Harry must not hear Louis knock on the front door, startled out of her slowly building panic by the Styrofoam containers squeaking together as Louis sets them on the coffee table.

“One, you should really lock your front door,” Louis says, plopping down on the couch next to Harry. “Two, you look like you’re having a life crisis. What’s going on?”

Harry lets out a heavy sigh. “I haven’t been able to write anything in so long. My manager is, like, really worried about me. And a little frustrated, I think.”

“Do you want some help?”

Harry turns to stare at Louis, an eyebrow raised. “Do you want to help me?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says easily. “I like writing. It’s one of my favorite parts of what we do.”

“Then yes, please. I think I need all the help I can get.”

Louis makes them eat their dinner first, claiming they’ll never write anything good on an empty stomach. After they eat and pack away the leftovers into Harry’s almost empty fridge (which Louis scolds her about), they settle back in on the couch. 

Louis flips to a blank page in Harry’s notebook, not even bothering to look at what she already has. 

“It’s better to just start with a blank slate,” she explains. “Instead of trying to conform to the vibe you’ve already got going on that song.”

“Makes sense.” Harry nods. At this point, Louis could tell her the only way to write a good song was to stand on her head and count to one hundred and she’d probably do it. She’s kind of desperate.

“I’ve actually had this tune stuck in my head for awhile now,” Louis says. “I think I’ve been waiting for the right time to sit down and get it out, and this is the perfect time.” 

She reaches over and picks up the guitar from the table, settling it in her lap. She works on tuning it to her liking for a moment, Harry watching raptly, before she starts strumming something. She’s humming under her breath, almost too quiet for Harry to hear, something that’s not quite words yet, but enough to get them started.

When Louis’ done, she sets the guitar back down and writes the chords in the notebook, and somehow, with Louis there with her, writing a new song doesn’t feel as daunting to Harry.

Louis plays the tune again, adding more to the end of it now, and Harry actually manages to think of lyrics to go along with it. They manage to find a groove together, with Louis playing the guitar and humming until Harry can think of the words to go along with it. Eventually, they’ve got the bare bones of an actual song down, and Harry actually has something to give to Zak.

Louis sets the guitar down next to the closed notebook, leaning back against the couch cushions with a deep sigh. Harry leans next to her, studying the length of her eyelashes against her cheekbones before she opens her eyes. 

“What?” Louis asks when she finds Harry staring. “Is there something on my face?”

Harry shakes her head. “No, I just find you really nice to look at. That’s all.” She shrugs, hoping it comes off as casual, but it doesn’t do much to dissipate the tension in the air between them.

“Thanks,” Louis breathes, shoulders relaxing. Her eyes flutter closed again, but she manages to sleepily mumble, “I should go home.”

“You can stay, if you want,” Harry offers.

“D’you mind?” Louis asks, but she’s so tired at this point that her words slur together and she doesn’t even bother to open her eyes again.

Harry huffs a silent laugh and stands from the couch. She leans down and grabs a hold of Louis’ wrist, gently pulling her up as well. Louis opens her eyes halfway and allows herself to be led to Harry’s bedroom. She collapses on top of the covers before Harry can even offer her a toothbrush. She’s snoring when Harry comes back from brushing her own teeth, mouth parted slightly, definitely drooling onto the pillow.

Harry maneuvers the covers out from under Louis’ sleeping body, wrapping them both up in the soft sheets and fluffy comforter. As soon as she turns out the lights and lays her own head on the pillow, she’s out as well, dreaming of soft melodies and Louis’ sweet voice singing along with hers.

* * *

In the morning, she wakes up to cold feet and a warm back, an odd combination she doesn’t expect. She glances down at her feet to find that she’s kicked away the comforter and sheets away from her body, but notices a hand around her waist. She can’t turn around to confirm, but she’s pretty sure that’s Louis plastered to her back, still snoring just as softly as the night before.

She pinches the skin on the back of Louis’ hand, not so sharply to cause actual pain, but hopefully enough to startle her away.

“Hmm?” she asks, nuzzling further into Harry’s neck.

“You’re making me all sweaty,” Harry complains. “And I’m hungry.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbles, and Harry feels more than hears Louis laugh behind her.

Louis sits up, hair matted flat to one side of her head. She yawns, covering her mouth and making the most endearing noise. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and Harry can’t look away, not even worried about being caught staring.

“I’d tell you to take a picture, but I don’t think I want anyone seeing how I look in the morning.”

“I think you look cute in the morning,” Harry says honestly. 

“You’ve got questionable taste, then,” Louis teases. She rolls off the bed and stands, planting her hands on her hips. “Breakfast time?”

Harry ends up being the one cooking them breakfast, eggs and french toast and bacon, while Louis sips her tea at the kitchen island. Harry doesn’t mind so much, enjoying the way Louis keeps her company while she cooks. It feels domestic, like something they could work into their routine. Waking up beside Louis in the morning and making her breakfast is something Harry thinks she would love to do for a long time.

Louis insists on doing the dishes since Harry cooked, rinsing them all and loading the dishwasher, their roles switched as Harry sips the last of her tea at the island. 

“I’ve got to get going because I have a busy day, but thanks for letting me crash here, Styles,” Louis says, grabbing her bag from the floor near the couch. 

Harry walks her to the front door, leaning in the open doorway as Louis tries to put on her shoes while standing. When she’s finally successful, she straightens up and places a gentle kiss to Harry’s cheek. 

“See ya, Styles,” she says, blowing a kiss and walking down the driveway to her car.

Harry pretends to catch it and presses her hand against the spot on her cheek Louis actually did kiss. It’s no different than the rest of her face, but she swears the skin feels warmer. 

She starts to wonder if she’s in too deep, with the way her skin lights up when Louis touches her and the way her heart aches now that she’s gone. She’s still just as confused about where they stand in their relationship, if it’s any kind of relationship at all. She knows they’re, at the very least, friends, on their way to — hopefully — something more. 

She sighs and heads back into the living room. Her guitar and notebook are still left abandoned on the coffee table, and she picks up the notebook. Flipping through the pages from the night before, she gets a burst of inspiration. Her fingers can’t get the words down quickly enough, scribbling out mistakes as her brain moves faster than her pen.

It’s maybe the quickest she’s ever written a song, but sitting back and reading it over, she’s incredibly proud of it. Wanting to use up the inspiration while she still has it, she sends Zak a text to let him know she’s actually writing again and then gets back to work.

* * *

Harry drops her second single three months after the first one, a song called _Sunflower V. 6_ that is _definitely_ about Louis, but she won’t admit to out loud. Zak lined her up with a bunch of interviews for the week, and she’s not too excited for them, but it’s part of the job. Interviews are definitely her least favorite part of it all, but it’s a small price to pay to get to do what she loves every day.

The week goes by surprisingly quick, none of the interviews dragging on too much. She’s in her second to last one of the week, thrumming with excitement at being done for the time being. Of course, nearer to the album release she’ll have to do a much more extensive promo tour, but she’s trying not to think about it.

So far, the interview has been going well. The interview has been respectful and kept the questions to music, but Harry knows how quickly things can go south in an interview. Just as soon as she starts to think she’s safe, she’ll get a wayward question about her love life thrown in.

Which is, of course, exactly what happens.

“Our time together is almost up, Harry,” the interviewer, Adam, says, pouting over exaggeratedly. “I suppose I just have one more question for you.” Harry tightens her smile and widens her eyes, hoping she can shut him up with just her expression. It doesn’t seem to work, though, because he continues on, “How are things between you and Louis Tomlinson?”

“Oh, I—” She inhales sharply through her teeth. She squeezes her eyes shut and attempts to take another breath, counting to ten in her mind. When she opens them, Adam is still staring at her, head cocked, obviously confused. “No comment?”

Adam laughs, throwing his head back. “Has that ever worked for you?”

“I’ve never tried it. Did it work this time?”

“Obviously, don’t answer any questions you don’t want to, but it seems mighty suspicious when you avoid questions,” Adam says. “And live on air, it’s even worse because none of this can be edited out.”

Harry chuckles nervously. She completely forgets all media training she’s ever had. “Right, right. Um. Well. I can’t really give you a concrete answer, I suppose.”

Adam winces and pulls a face. “Alright, kind of sorry I asked now. You’ve heard it here first, I suppose. Wish we were leaving this off on a better note, but as always it’s been a pleasure to have you, Harry.”

“Erm, thanks,” she says. 

The interview ends and Harry doesn’t get up from the chair for a few seconds, delaying the inevitable smack upside the head Zak’s going to give her. Eventually, she can’t sit there any longer, so she gets up and makes her way to the other room, where Zak is waiting for her.

“So you guys _aren’t_ dating?” he asks, an incredulous look on his face.

“Um, no? Or, I don’t know?” she says, sounding unsure. “We haven’t really talked about it, I suppose.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t, I don’t know.” She shrugs.

“Okay, well, at least figure out what the fuck you’re going to answer next time you get that question. I feel like I’m going to have to train you how to answer questions all over again. That was hard to watch.” He gives her a pointed look and turns away to finish packing their things.

She makes it through the last interview of the day without embarrassing herself much more, and goes home tired but happy to be done with it. She collapses onto her couch, unwilling to move until she becomes so hungry she can’t take it any longer.

Of course, nothing can ever go as Harry wants it. There’s a knock at the door, and she groans into the empty room, debating whether or not she’s going to get up and greet whoever it is. She has no idea who it could be, and that settles it for her. If it’s important, they’ll call her or find some other way to reach her.

“Didn’t I tell you to start locking your door?” 

Harry startles, sitting up and almost falling off the couch. She clutches at her chest, trying to get her heart to stop racing. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” she says finally. “I’m starting to think you just made a copy of my key.”

Louis snorts and sits down on the couch. She sets the bag of takeout she’d been carrying onto the coffee table and leans back, tucking her legs up under herself and making herself comfortable.

“I don’t need a key when you don’t lock your door.”

“Alright, if I ever start locking my door I promise I’ll give you a key.”

Louis gives her half a smile, her jaw twitching. Harry can see she’s thinking about something, like she’s not totally present in the moment. 

“Want to talk about it?” she tries, reaching over and intertwining their fingers, settling their hands on top of Louis’ thigh. 

“Harry, I’m sorry,” she says, and that’s the last thing Harry had expected her to say.

She furrows her eyebrows. “You’re sorry?”

Harry watches the bob of Louis’ throat as she swallows. She finally meets Harry’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For leading you on, I guess,” Louis answers. Each word out of her mouth continues to shock Harry, not at all how she was expecting this conversation to go. “I should have been straight forward with you about what I wanted, and about why I was holding back.”

“Louis, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Harry says. “Or, if you do need to apologize for that, then so do I.”

Louis’ face twists, eyebrows pulling together, eyes narrowing. “Why do _you_ need to apologize?”

Harry wants to knock her and Louis’ heads together. She’s too stubborn for her own good, sometimes. Louis can’t even see that Harry didn’t ask or try to talk about their relationship, either, completely ready to take on all blame herself.

“I didn’t try and clarify what we were either!” she says, exasperated. She throws her hands up between them, letting Louis’ hand drop from her fingers. “Neither of us asked or said anything about what we wanted. We failed at the whole communication part of whatever this is.”

Louis tugs at her bottom lip, pulling it in between her teeth. “Can we talk about it now?”

“I’d be upset if we didn’t,” Harry says, following it up with a soft chuckle so Louis knows she’s messing around. 

“I don’t want you to see anyone else,” Louis admits, averting her gaze down at her lap. 

Harry almost lets herself get distracted by the shadows of Louis’ eyelashes across her cheekbones, but manages to focus on the conversation at hand. Louis untucks her legs from underneath herself so she can sit up straighter and face Harry, bringing her gaze back upwards. 

She clears her throat and continues, “I’d eventually like us to be real, proper girlfriends. And when interviewers ask you what we are, I’d like you to be able to say that we’re together.”

Harry beams, smile threatening to split her face in half. She reaches over and stills Louis’ fidgeting fingers with her hand, squeezing tightly. 

“I’d love that,” she says earnestly. “I don’t want you to see other people, either.” She gives Louis’ fingers another squeeze. “See? That wasn’t so hard to talk about,” she teases.

Louis’ worried expression doesn’t slide from her face. “There is one other thing.”

“What is it?” Harry asks curiously.

“Um, I just—” Harry watches as Louis’ cheeks turn a light pink shade, obviously embarrassed about something. “You’re the first girl I’ve even kissed. And I didn’t want you to, like, realize how inexperienced I was and then I also didn’t know how to just tell you.”

“Well, you just did, for one,” Harry says gently, dropping the volume of her words, reaching up and placing her hand on Louis’ cheek. She strokes over the soft skin with the pad of her thumb, watching as the tension drains from Louis’ shoulders and feeling the heat leave her cheeks. “And I would never judge you.”

Louis gives her a grateful smile. She reaches up and grabs at the hand that’s cupping her cheek, nuzzling into Harry’s palm. They sit there for a while, Harry has no idea how long, huddled together on her couch, simply holding onto each other. 

“Louis,” Harry whispers, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Louis answers by leaning forward and connecting their lips, softly but with intent behind it. Their lips slide together easily as Harry slides her hand from Louis’ cheek to her jaw, gripping tightly. Louis gasps and Harry uses the opportunity to slide her tongue past her lips, feeling the way Louis’ hands clench tighter to the hem of her t-shirt.

Harry pulls away, leaning her forward against Louis’. Louis slowly opens her eyes, pupils dilated as they both try to catch their breath.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis breathes. 

Harry bites back a smile and leans forward again, already missing Louis’ lips. 

It’s not long before the kiss grows more desperate, tongues sliding against each other, Louis’ hands twisted in her hair, Harry sucking light bruises into the skin of her neck. She nips one last bruise closer to Louis’ collarbone before straightening up.

“Can I do something for you?” she asks. “I don’t want to push you, but I’d really like to eat you out.”

Louis inhales sharply, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. Her mouth drops just slightly as she nods. “Yeah, okay,” she agrees, voice gone all airy. “Not beating around the bush, are you?”

“I know what I want,” Harry says, shrugging.

She throwsLouis a cheeky grin and drops down to the floor in front of the couch. Using her hands on Louis’ hips, she maneuvers her until she’s seated how she needs, linking her fingers in Louis’ waistband and giving it a gentle tug.

“Can I take these off?”

“Please,” Louis says, and Harry can hear the way she’s holding her breath, can see the cautious excitement in her eyes.

Harry doesn’t waste another moment, tugging Louis’ athletic shorts and underwear off together, discarding them on the floor next to her. She places a tender kiss to the inside of both of Louis’ knees, looking up at her.

Louis’ gripping the couch, knuckles white, and Harry decides she doesn’t like that. She reaches one hand up and locks their fingers together, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze. 

“If you don’t want to do this, that’s perfectly okay,” Harry attempts to ease her nerves.

“No, I want to,” Louis says, and Harry can tell she means it. 

Harry doesn’t bother saying anything else, just presses more kisses to the inside of Louis’ thigh as she works her way up. When she reaches the spot where Louis’ thigh meets her hip, she leans forward and licks tentatively at Louis’ clit.

Louis reacts just as Harry had hoped, gasping loudly and tightening her hold on Harry’s hand. Harry does it again and this time Louis curses, a quiet “ _fuck_ ” whispered almost under her breath. 

Harry applies more pressure behind the move this time, flattening her tongue and moving closer. She doesn’t let up, alternating between long presses of her tongue and short, quick ones that have Louis closing her thighs in around Harry’s head. 

She uses her free hand to slip a finger inside of Louis’ cunt, feeling the way Louis tightens around her. She can barely hear Louis’ gasps when her thighs are around her head, but she can feel the way they wrack her entire body. 

It’s so wet that Harry can feel it down her chin and on her hand, slipping in a second finger beside the first. She scissors them, working them in and out of Louis while she continues working her tongue on Louis’ clit. 

She peeks up through her eyelashes, just barely able to watch the way Louis’ eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth open in an almost silent moan. Her grip on Harry’s hand is verging on painful, so Harry pulls her hand from Louis’ grasp and leads her now freehand to Harry’s hair, hoping she gets the message.

Louis understands, twisting her fingers into Harry’s hair and pulling sharply before using her grip to push Harry even more firmly against her. Harry slips her now free hand into her own underwear, rubbing at her clit at the same speed she licks against Louis’.

“Harry, I’m—” Louis gasps, cutting herself off. She tugs at Harry’s hand, and Harry can just barely see the way her eyes roll back. “I’m gonna—”

She doesn’t even finish her sentence, thighs trembling as she orgasms. Harry’s fingers are so wet they’re almost dripping. She licks at Louis’ clit, feeling the way it jumps from oversensitivity. It only takes a few more seconds before she’s following in Louis’ lead, rubbing at her clit and sitting up to bite sharply at Louis’ thigh as she comes.

Louis strokes her hair through it, sliding her hand down to pet Harry’s cheek tenderly. 

“I wanted to do that,” she says with a pout, lower lip sticking out.

“Sorry,” Harry says, but can’t make herself sound very sorry at all. Instead, she just sounds satisfied and tired. “Next time?”

“Next time,” Louis agrees. 

She helps Harry to her feet and kisses her softly. Leaning forward, she presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Last one to the bedroom is a loser.”

She takes off running down the hallway, leaving Harry standing there, looking like an idiot. Harry comes to her senses, taking off after her, legs still wobbly after her orgasm. As she pounces on Louis, who’s pretending to be asleep on the bed, she swears she’s happier than she’s been in a long time.

* * *

Almost a full year after the release of Harry’s first solo single, she drops her first solo album. 

It’s full of songs that Louis helped her write, songs about Louis, and songs about the way Louis makes her feel. Zak had almost thrown up while listening to it, fake gagging as he asked if she knew how to write any other kind of song besides ones that were basically love letters to Louis. She told him to get used to it and flipped him the bird.

The promo tour she had been dreading doesn’t end up being so bad. She gets to go on Adeline’s show again, this time without Louis (unfortunately), and gets a chance to meet fans at small, secret performances she does. As much as she loves singing to an arena full of screaming fans, she also loves the smaller venues, where it feels much more intimate.

She’s got one last interview scheduled for the day before she’s free to go home and collapse into bed, hopefully cuddling with Louis. As she touches up her makeup, she feels familiar arms snake around her waist.

“What a surprise this is,” she says, face breaking out into a smile.

“I wrapped up early at the studio,” Louis explains. “Thought I would come visit my lovely girlfriend at work.”

“Your so-called lovely girlfriend appreciates the surprise.”

There’s a loud knock at the door, startling both of them. Louis kisses her at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “I think you have to get out there.”

“I think so, too,” Harry sighs. She spins around in Louis’ arms and gives her a wet kiss on her forehead. “See you after?”

“See you after,” Louis says, giving her a push towards the door. 

The interview goes as most of them do, asking her about the inspiration and stories behind her songs and asking her about her upcoming tour. She gives her answers almost robotically— “ _Yes, I’m excited for tour_ ” and “ _Most of my songs have been inspired by a lovely someone special that came into my life_.”

“Speaking of that special someone,” the interviewer, Dani, leads, “I see she’s managed to join us today. Sitting right over there, actually.” The camera pans to Louis, sitting right off to the side, giving an awkward wave and shooting Harry a nervous look.

The camera pans back around, focusing back on Harry and Dani. Harry blows a kiss to Louis, mouthing a ‘thank you’ and receiving a kiss blown back in her direction.

“You two are just the cutest,” Dani says, and Harry can see that she means it, that she isn’t just saying it because they’re in front of the camera. 

“Thank you,” Harry says sincerely. “The support means the world to us.”

“Is there anything else you want to add before we have to head out for the day?” Dani asks, leaning forward over her crossed legs.

Harry thinks about it for a second before smiling crookedly, feeling the set of her dimple into her cheek. “Stream Louis’ new single ‘ _Walls_ ’ now. It’s very lovely.”

If Dani had been expecting something else, she manages to stay composed, matching Harry’s smile. “You’ve heard it here, go and give Louis’ single a listen. I can personally say it’s a good one.”

Harry thanks her and the audience one last time before they get the signal that the cameras have stopped running. Harry shakes Dani’s hand and then makes her way over to Louis.

“You’re cheeky, you know that?” Louis teases, leaning in and kissing Harry’s cheek. 

“But you love it.”

“I do,” Louis agrees. “And I love you.”

Harry’s smile softens, less cheeky and more warm now, heart fluttering the way it always does when Louis tells her that. “I love you, too.”

“Now, can we go home? I’m so tired.”

Harry agrees and allows herself to be led out to Louis’ car. As she gets in, she thinks that she would follow Louis wherever in the world, no questions asked. When Louis reaches over and places her hand on Harry’s thigh while she drives, Harry _knows_ it’s true, so far gone for Louis she can barely keep her heart from beating out of her chest. 

Every day she thinks she can’t get any happier with Louis. She thinks it again as Louis tells her to hop in the shower while she makes dinner for them. She’ll think it again tomorrow, but that doesn’t make it any less true today. 

When Louis kisses her on the forehead and whacks her with a dish towel, telling her to hurry up, she hopes it never stops being true.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, didn't enjoy, just want a friend - feel free to reach out on [tumblr!](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com)  
> [rebloggable fic post](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com/post/626179501565607936/daydream-about-me-21k-written-for)


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